


Oh, no.

by lilolecasserole



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilolecasserole/pseuds/lilolecasserole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>October 13th, 1942.<br/>ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION<br/>The Prime Minister Of Japan,<br/>To Orihara Izaya<br/>Order No: 11682<br/>GREETING:<br/>Having submitted yourself to a Local Board composed of your neighbors for the purpose of determining your availability for training and service in the armed forces of Japan, you are hereby notified that you have now been selected for training and service in the Army.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, no.

All the man named Orihara Izaya wanted to do was get his mail.

  
It was a brisk October day, and his porcelain hands were adorned with soft wool gloves, the intense black of their fabric now faded from use. The edges were covered by his coat; it was fur-trimmed, but in a casual fashion- something that was surely iconic to those in Miyakojima. Underneath it was a black shirt not quite buttoned all the way up with dark suspenders that seemed to blend in, truly representing his character. His entire wardrobe was not only dark, but soft and expertly crafted, as he saw to it himself. The body underneath the clothing, however, was not as fortunate.

  
You could not craft a human body. No matter how hard you tried or how precise you were in your actions, you could not create a human heart from raw materials. You could not give emotion to a lifeless doll. If you could have, Izaya surely would have by now- not only for him, but for his sisters, as well.

  
He wasn't unhealthy, nor unattractive (quite toned, actually); it was simply that the blood running through his veins just so happened to be that of others, others who had done horrible things, others who had abandoned people in their times of need. Mother and Father. Izaya Orihara was very, very bitter about that. In his loathing, he also managed to become drawn to the feeling of love- not love in a traditional sense, but philosophically. If all this love humans said made the world go 'round were to disappear, what would happen? And if those humans all loved each other on planet earth so much, then how could planet earth be so absolutely horrid?

  
Izaya smiled in his thoughts. Outwardly, he never smiled alone. But, in his thoughts, he had his moments. He had his moments where he could crush everything just by pressing a button, where he could achieve that feeling of love by having the humans he cared so much for reach out to him, to be the ones in need. He wanted to know why they would remain indifferent. He wanted to feel how they felt, so entitled to their smiles and their families when he had none.

  
He wanted to deny them assistance and break them. He just never thought the day would come so soon... and he never thought he'd deny himself the opportunity.

* * *

  
October 13th, 1942.  
ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION  
The Prime Minister Of Japan,  
To Orihara Izaya  
Order No: 11682  
GREETING:  
Having submitted yourself to a Local Board composed of your neighbors for the purpose of determining your availability for training and service in the armed forces of Japan, you are hereby notified that you have now been selected for training and service in the Army.  
You will, therefore, report to the----------------------------------------------------------------------  
\----------------------- 16th day of October, 1942.  
This ----------------------------------------- will furnish transportation ------------------------

* * *

 

He was barely paying attention to the words anymore.

  
The things he could do. The trouble he could cause, the mass destruction it could all have. He heard about the Battle of Midway. He read about it in all the papers, the Japanese and the Americans. His parents had lived in America, and they were the only real ones he'd held a grudge against. They were successful, of course, and had many allies... But perhaps there was discrimination. They weren't even real Japanese, anyway. The Okinawan were Okinawan, and they were proud of that. Maybe, though, just maybe, if Izaya decided to play along with this little game and join that stupid army, he'd have a chance to go. He'd have a chance to see his parents again, to talk to them, to tell them how absolutely horrid they were.

  
Just the thought of it made him gleeful.

  
The man folded the letter back up, pocketing it along with the little box of chocolates they'd ordered a few weeks ago--- and just in time, too, as the school bell seemed to ring. His two sisters, Mairu and Kururi Orihara, were only 13 years of age to his 23. They still had to attend Junior High despite being geniuses, in his opinion. They were unbelievably cunning and brilliant, and though he didn't often enjoy their company, he could at least appreciate that.

  
Mairu had a braid going down to her mid-back, and it bounced as she bounded toward him. Her glasses had drooped down a little on her nose, and those brown eyes of hers met Izaya's matching irises. "Iza-nii, Iza-nii, did our package come yet?" Kururi looked just about the same as Mairu, aside from the glasses and the long hair; she preferred it cut to her shoulders, perhaps to differentiate herself from Mairu, or just to match her character archetype. The two girls dressed differently to extremities as well. What with Mairu and her pale yellow short-sleeved dress that went down to her knees and Kururi's black sweater, along with those puffy shorts she always wore. Together, they seemed like an odd pair, but it always did work out in their favor.

  
"Oh, yeah, it did," he slipped the box of sweets out of his pocket and handed it to the girls, who gratefully took it. They were well aware he didn't want the chocolates. No, he wasn't fond of sugary things.

  
With that, they walked home in silence. Izaya was only in a state of contemplation, whereas his sisters were stuffing their faces full of the Japanese candies. He could probably make chocolate, he thought. If he had the right ingredients and the right tools, who couldn't?

  
He decided to wait until that night to share the letter with them. It was only fair.

 

* * *

 

  
_October 15th, 1942_  
Shizuo Heiwajima set his plate down, most of the building quiet. He and his squad were on lookout that night, and as the moon rose slowly to the center of the sky, his buddies alerted him that it was his turn to grab a meal. He'd walked into the camp and the chef set the food in front of him with a small smile (which was always appreciated,) then moved on to more important things. The Senior Private ate quickly, so as to not postpone the time for the Corporal Tom's meal; Tom insisted that he go last- after all, it was his job to take care of the squad over himself, despite the fact that the situation didn't call for much drama, and Shizuo reluctantly accepted.

  
The lighting was dim in the camp. The main room was fairly empty, as everyone was either in the sleeping chambers or out on duty. A few people, Shizuo noticed, were watching two men play chess in the corner of the room. He wondered for a moment who would win out of the two people he recognized- A man who looked about in his 50's, but Shizuo couldn't put a name to his face, and Kyohei Kadota, a close friend of his. He decided against greeting the group for now, trying not to stall. As he returned to his post, his Corporal approached him.

  
"You know, you don't have to sacrifice a savored meal for me," he laughed a little, shaking his head. As soon as he approached, he was gone, which left virtually no time for Shizuo to respond. Not that he minded or anything; after all, what would he say?

  
Their watch shift concluded at 6AM that morning. It was evident, however, that they were left with no chance of sleep that day. No, there were new recruits coming in, and they had to be briefed, trained, shown around, etc. Besides, no one wanted to miss the 'fresh meat.'

  
Fresh meat, Shizuo found, was a joke among soldiers. Just about everything, actually, was a joke among soldiers. Every once in a while, one of them would say a three syllable word or phrase to the very tune of "ATTEN-TION!" and everyone would get into position, only to laugh and scold the one who started the whole thing. They'd jokingly call each other 'soldier' like in the movies. Some of them called each other by ranking as well, mocking popular fiction and fantasy. Shizuo felt somewhat... at home there. Still, he was an outcast, but less of one.

  
The doctor, he'd recognized- Shinra Kishitani- walked into the room and began to set up a small station. He'd done the same when Shizuo was first sent there as well; his vitals were checked, and a blood sample was taken from him. Why Shinra needed it, he had no way of knowing, but it wasn't like he was going to ask.

  
"Yo, Kishitani-san," he meandered over, a hand set on the back of the chair Shinra had just set down.  
"Shizuo-kun! Don't be so formal. Please, call me Shinra," the doctor smiled widely in return. "You excited for the new guys to come in? Enjoy the next 15 minutes of normality, because it's going to be totally different after that."

  
"Did you tell the other guys that when I got here?" Shizuo gestured to the groups of soldiers all gathered in the main room of the camp. Most of them were in their own individual groups, some playing games, some idly chatting. It was as casual as ever.

 

Shinra just laughed. "You bet I did."

  
They kept each other company like that until the new recruits came in. There were about 15 altogether for that particular building, but one stood out to Shizuo the most. A man, much shorter than himself, with brown-black hair and crimson eyes. On his face was something that could be compared to both a grimace and a smirk. That inscrutable expression, it was haunting.

  
One by one, vitals were checked. Shinra calmed down each and every one of the men with chitchat, smalltalk. Questions about their life. But that raven-haired man... He reacted so strangely to Shinra, it was almost as terrifying as his face. It bothered him, and made him... angry. Yeah, he was angry. He couldn't figure this guy out! Now, it wasn't like he was some great people person or anything, but he at least knew the basic vibes people gave off like if they were happy or sad or anxious to be there, and this dude wasn't showing anything!

  
"So, Izaya-kun, do you have any family to return to?" Shinra's voice knocked Shizuo out of his thoughts, and he listened intently.

  
"Two sisters. Mairu and Kururi. How about you, Kishitani-san? Oftentimes, the questions we ask are the ones we can answer ourselves. Is there someone you're longing to go home to?" Izaya clenched his fist as his blood was drawn; he was... not very fond of the process.

  
"A fiancée, actually. Her name is Celty Sturluson," Shinra nodded. He took Izaya's response into consideration, but... didn't really care all that much. It just didn't matter to him what Izaya wanted to know about him.

  
On the other hand, it mattered very much to Izaya what Shinra wanted to know about him. "Celty Sturluson? Irish. Progressive, I see. Congratulations."

  
Shizuo watched the man named Izaya's lips as he spoke. They were thin and looked very soft, too soft... The man himself looked like a doll. He didn't fit in at all with the setting around him. For a moment, Shizuo thought that some of the more violent soldiers might kick him around, just because of how he looked, acted, how... strange he was. But, suddenly, it hit him that nothing would happen to this man, simply because this man wouldn't allow it.

  
"Alright. You're all done for the day. I'm sure you must be starving, so breakfast is right up front for you!" Shinra patted Izaya on the shoulder, allowing the other to stand and stretch a little.

  
"Thank you, Shinra-kun," Izaya smiled as he turned on his heel and walked away, hips swaying the slightest bit.

  
Irritation grew in Shizuo's veins. This was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> I wonder if you'll eventually realize I don't actually speak English, and am merely using voice to text in my alien language.


End file.
